


Some Say In Ice

by Gereiheimer



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom, Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: Dysfunctional Relationships, Everybody is a little shit, Except Bylestir who's awesome, FrostIron - Freeform, Frostiron Bang 2013, IronFrost - Freeform, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Kidnapping, Kink, Loki Does What He Wants, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pepper is also awesome, Pet, Rough Sex, Temperature Play, Tony is a little shit, alien invasions, dangerous deals, how to survive on Jotunheim, loki is a little shit, pre-IM3, pre-TDW, prejudice against frost giants
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2017-12-28 07:55:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gereiheimer/pseuds/Gereiheimer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Bylestir suggested that the King ought to take a pet to keep him from getting too bored, he thought Loki might take a lover or an actual pet (polar bears were cute), not a strange Midgardian man with a light shining from his chest who would show no respect and try to set the palace ablaze twice. On the other hand, the King did seem less bored.</p><p>(Or how Loki became king of Jotunheim, grew predictably bored and kidnapped Tony Stark to keep him company, and how Tony was not amused, tried to stay alive, and things worked out marginally better than you would expect.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Initially written for the Frostiron Big Bang 2013 but posted late because I can't keep a deadline.
> 
> Art by glasslogic. (click on the banner for original post)  
> Beta reading by kccasey.  
> This is loosely inspired from a role-play I did a long time ago with a friend. It picks up right where The Avengers ended and does not take what happened in IM3 and what will possibly happen in Thor 2 into account. Please look at the warnings/rating.  
> It's also my first Frostiron story so I hope you enjoy, don't hesitate to leave conscrit!
> 
> Title from the poem "Fire and Ice" by R. Frost.

  

 

[ ](http://glasslogic.livejournal.com/42247.html)

 

 

The thing about Tony Stark (well, one of the things, he had a complex personality, thank you very much) was that in his life, he'd already woken up in a great variety of awkward situations.

When he'd been younger, there had been regular instances of him crawling out of bed in the early hours of the morning, blearily blinking at whomever was sleeping next to him before padding out silently and letting JARVIS deal with them. Less so now, considering the person in question tended to be Pepper, all freckled skin and mussed hair. He was quite alright with snuggling back against her and going back to sleep.

Hangovers were a fairly common variable of this equation: back then, going home and being tucked into bed by a somewhat exasperated Happy; and still now, whenever he had to indulge in whiskey to get some sleep.

Out of the iterated daze of awkward morning calls, a few occurrences stood out: Afghanistan, because nothing quite beat waking up in a cave surrounded by terrorists with your heart wired to a car battery; that time during the battle of New York when he'd woken up just in time to avoid a potentially lethal CPR session with the Hulk (or, more likely, bloody Captain America); and of course, the hookers and flamingoes party incident ( _still_ not the worst thing Pepper had caught him doing).

So, all in all, you'd think that he'd be pretty used to waking up in unexpectedly uncomfortable conditions.

And yet.

\-------------------------------------------------------

Tony woke up to a sharp pain in his head and a feeling of cold in his jaw so intense that it made half of his face numb. Jerking away from it he tried to sit up, grunting as he found that his arms and legs were mostly numb as well, his whole body shuddering weakly. He touched the back of his head gingerly, wincing as he felt a nasty gash there, dried blood flaking against his fingers. A quick check up confirmed that he didn't seem to have any other injuries, his eyebrows rising as he looked around him, adrenalin shooting through him. Panic made his stomach flip.

He had no idea where he was.

One minute he had been slaving away in his workshop, putting the finishing touches to the Mark 28 (or was it 29? he'd have to ask JARVIS) and the next he found himself in the dim light of what seemed to be a prison cell, freezing in his thin _Headless Cross_ T-shirt.

Grunting, he forced himself to stand up. He took a few steps on the uneven floor, stomping his feet to try and get some feeling back in his legs and carefully mapping his surroundings. The room was all stone and ice and it looked _ancient_ , like the cell of an actual castle, windowless and quiet. Whoever had kidnapped him had an obvious medieval fetish and no great concern for Tony's health. They'd also had the ability to get into his tower and snatch him right under JARVIS's digital nose.

Yeah, he had no clue.

“Great,” he muttered, rubbing his arms angrily. “Ain't that great.” Walking around in circles grew boring pretty quickly, but at least it allowed him to warm up. His breath fogged the air around him. He inspected the walls of his cell, finding nothing to use as a makeshift tool or weapon but frozen grey stones.

He was contemplating whether taking off his shoes and seeing what he could make of them would be worth potentially losing a toe or two, pushing both his hands into the pockets of his trousers, when his fingers came in contact with a familiar object.

Whoever had kidnapped him had forgotten to take away his Starkphone. _Suckers_. Tony felt himself relax, slipping the phone out of his pocket with a flourish. With it he would be able to locate himself, send a distress signal, and even call a suit to him. Easy.

He touched the screen, smiling as the phone lit up, casually pressing the emergency call button, already clearing his throat to try and appear nonchalant when JARVIS would pick up. But instead of the comforting dryness of his A.I.'s voice, all Tony got was silence. Not even a tone or the crackle of static, just silence.

 _No signal_ , the phone displayed.

Tony stared at it. “You've got to be fucking kidding me.” He blinked at the screen, uncomprehending. “C'mon. C'mon, you're Starktech, not a bloody Iphone, you always get a signal.” He tried to move in the cell, holding up his phone furiously, trying to get even just one bar.

 _No signal_ , the phone persisted. That wasn't possible. Tony had made sure that his phones would always pick up a signal. _Always_. No matter how remote a place they were in, underground, on top of fucking Mount Everest, Stark Industries owned enough satellites to always get a signal. Except, apparently, wherever he was at the moment. Just his luck.

He looked up as he heard approaching footsteps, putting the phone back in his pocket and backing away from the door in a desperate attempt to keep himself safe, his heart pounding. He tilted his chin up and gritted his teeth, unwilling to show weakness. The heavy wooden door let out a sinister creak as it was unlocked and pushed open.

Though he considered himself pretty difficult to impressed (he'd _been there, done that_ way more than your average guy, really) Tony could feel his eyes widen and his heart leap against the reactor. The guy who stepped in, whoever he was, was huge, at least twice Tony's size and very, very _blue_. He didn't look human, with blood-red eyes and sharp black teeth. He didn't look friendly, either.

“More aliens,” Tony said. “Just what I needed.”

The creature paid his words no mind, stepping closer heavily and making Tony tense up. He took a defensive stance in a rather futile hope of holding his own should it try to kill him but the alien seemed to have no such designs, grabbing him by the back of his shirt and hauling him up and along. Tony yelped, struggling and kicking as he was thrown out of the cell roughly

Outside were two more aliens and before Tony could even think of running they grabbed him by the arms, bodily lifting him up and hauling him along the corridor. After a couple of minutes of this Tony stopped struggling, trying to ease the pressure on his arms and shuddering because the creatures' touch was _cold_.

“You know, I can walk,” he stated, looking at the aliens carrying him in turn. “Got legs and everything? It'd spare you guys the trouble, right?” he offered hopefully. They didn't seem to understand, or did not care, dragging him along an endless stone corridor into a vast room with a high ceiling supported by pillars which seemed to be made of ice.

There was a row of guards there, all wearing what Tony could only call ceremonial loincloths. He tried to snigger but could only yelp as he was (rather unnecessarily, he thought), thrown to the floor again, landing hard on his knees, pain shooting right through him. He hissed and cursed but got on his hands and knees as soon as his body allowed, trying to get up. A heavy hand pinned him down, the creature closest to him snarling, showing dark, pointy teeth.

“Enough,” a voice spoke up, contemptuous and bored. “Leave us.”

Tony closed his eyes for a second, hearing the aliens around him retreat and leave the room. He knew that voice and he'd rather take the potentially homicidal blue aliens over who it belonged to any day. Steeling himself, he looked up.

In front of him, sprawled in a high stone throne in a way that could only be called obscene, sat Loki Laufeyson.

\------------------------------------------------------

_Two weeks before._

Loki was bored. That, in itself, never boded well for anyone or anything that would happen to get in his way. Except there was _nothing_. He had seen bareness before, the absolute silence of dead moons, the wild, unfruitful life of realms left fallow, the eternal void of space. But Jotunheim, with its cold waste, its preternaturally still glaciers and its black ground crackling and hissing in a violent wind which coldness he could not feel, made him itchy and restless.

He had come here out of sheer despair, fleeing from Asgard and the unavoidable condemnation of Odin's justice.

It had been depressingly easy to dupe Thor and lure him into believing that the runes etched in the heavy manacles and muzzle he had forced Loki to wear would contain him long enough, especially during their unsteady, Tesseract-powered, journey back to Asgard. What his _dear_ brother had not taken into account was that Loki knew magic much, much better than he ever would, and knew the Tesseract and its influence quite intimately after spending so long listening to its call.

The radiation and power it had unleashed to take them back to Asgard had been strong, filling Loki to the brim with energy and causing enough interference to weaken the manacles, allowing him to slip away, letting himself fall into the void once more, though this time his descent had not been punctuated with Thor's horrified shout of despair. And this time as well, contrary to the last, he had known how to right himself and curl up in the shade of a barren moon long enough to regroup and plot.

To say that Jotunheim had become his hiding place by choice would have been a bit of an exaggeration. It had pretty much been his _last_ choice, and that was what had made it the best. Neither Odin nor Thor would dare set foot on Jotunheim before a long time, even should they suspect Loki to be hiding there, which was unlikely. And Thanos, for all his bravado, was not all-seeing. He would not find Loki there and even so, would not waste precious time and resources invading such a useless, primitive realm.

Loki's plan had originally been to hide on Jotunheim, spending a few wretched years in the snowy mountains while he plotted his revenge, only taking his much-hated Jötun form occasionally, mingling with the Giants to trade for basic resources.

To suddenly find himself with a legitimate claim for the throne had been a bit of a surprise.

He'd heard about the situation in Utgard, where the throne had yet to be taken after Laufey's death, none of his heirs apparently being judged worthy to rule, the various factions and tribes quarrelling endlessly, each championing a different Giant.

The problem was, as Loki understood fairly quickly, that following Jötun tradition you could only become King in two ways : by being the King's elder son or by killing him. As it happened, he found himself filling both requisites.

Weaving a tale made of lies and a little truth, it had not been so difficult to paint himself as a war prisoner, persecuted in the house of Odin but now back to Jotunheim and intent on returning it to its former glory. Not all Frost Giants had sided with him but a good enough part of Utgard supported him, allowing him to beat his opponents and take the throne. The rest of the realm remained to conquer, remote tribes and warlords contesting his authority, but Loki felt confident that in time, he would manage to unify them all under his power.

It was a long process still, slow and tedious and so very boring.

\-----------------------------------------------------

When Bylestir came in, the King was glaring at the large map on the marble table, toying with one of the little pieces that symbolized the moving armies at play. Loki looked up sharply, giving him a piercing look. Bylestir bowed and shook his head, making Loki sigh and scowl down at the piece in his hand.

“Why isn't he advancing at once?” Loki hissed, placing the piece back on the map with exaggerated care, his fingers white where they gripped the edge of the map. “He knows he cannot win, would it not be easier to finish this once and for all?”

Bylestir stepped forward cautiously. “Thrym is playing a patience game, your majesty. He wants to force you to attack first, which would put you at a disadvantage. We need to wait.”

Loki glowered at him but did not protest, striding away from the table and pacing restlessly, making Bylestir sigh silently. He knew Loki enough to see the signs, by then. The King was bored, and that usually meant trouble. Mischief, at best; complete mayhem on their carefully laid-out battle plans at worse.

Loki was a worthy King and a worthy warrior, or so Bylestir thought, and the fact that he was the rightful heir of Laufey vastly compensated his upbringing as Odin's bastard. But it was undeniable that inactivity suited him ill, making him restless and prone to send everything to Hel just for the sake of a little entertainment.

“Why do you not take a pet, your majesty?” Bylestir suggested, bowing his head respectfully. Loki paused and looked at him, his eyes narrowing. Bylestir was much more clever than he had ever thought possible for a Frost Giant to be, which was why Loki had made him his closest counsellor. He seemed loyal as well, bound to Loki in their common hatred of Asgard.

“A pet?” Loki replied, raising an eyebrow. Bylestir's mouth did not move but his red eyes had crinkled a little at the corners in what Loki had come to interpret as a smile.

“Yes, your majesty,” Bylestir replied. “Since you do not wish for a bed mate. I know Skadi would be delighted still, should you change your mind.” Loki gave Bylestir a look. Skadi was the most beautiful Frost Giantess to live in Utgard and many sought her favours in vain. She was also roughly three times as large as Loki, even when he donned his Frost Giant form, and a good two times as large as Bylestir himself, in true Jotnar fashion.

“A pet, then,” Bylestir confirmed. “White panthers are beautiful, but always cunning. They won't ever do your bidding.” Bylestir showed four parallel marks on his forearm, deep wounds that had been made by sharp claws. Loki blinked at him. “Bears are much more loyal. Bildesnipes make very good companions to take into battle, though they are destructive pets.”

Loki snorted, getting up abruptly, pacing towards the balcony and watching the white, frigid sun disappear behind the heavy clouds of the evening. “A pet, you say,” he prompted after a while.

Bylestir tilted his head to the side, stepping out as well, seeming untroubled by the freezing wind. “Yes. Any creature that would catch your interest.” He watched Loki carefully. “Something clever and unruly would suit you best, I think.” Loki raised an eyebrow at him, amused. Something clever and unruly... Loki tried to remember the last he had encountered a creature whose cunning and rebellion he had liked.

His eyebrows rose faintly, a slow grin appearing on his face.

\------------------------------------------------

_Six days days before_

Pepper woke up with a start, unsure of what had roused her. Pushing her sleeping mask up she rolled on her back, sighing when she found the other half of the bed empty, the sheets wrinkled and twisted but cold.

She turned the lights on, blinking at the ceiling tiredly. “JARVIS., where is he?”

“In the workshop again, I'm afraid,” the A.I. replied and Pepper marvelled once more at how convincing the concern in his voice was. “He got up four hours ago after another bout of night terrors, I believe.” Numbers and holograms floated above her, figures and graphs showing a sudden spike in Tony's heartbeat and blood pressure. “Thank you,” she replied, wearily.

A concise list of names appeared in their stead.

“I still believe it would be for the best to introduce master Stark to a therapist,” JARVIS. suggested as Pepper put on her slippers.

“So do I. I tried to talk to him about it, but you know how he is.” Pepper padded out of the room silently, tying her hair in a loose ponytail.

“Master Stark can be very stubborn.”

“That's one way of putting it,” she replied, crossing the vast living-room. She went down the stairs cautiously, her eyebrows rising when she found Tony in the middle of a sea of mechanical parts, heavily resting against Dum-E's arm, his cheek pressed to the cold metal.

“Is he sleeping?” Pepper asked, keeping her voice low.

“I believe so,” J.A.R.V.I.S replied. Dum-E whirred softly, seemingly pleased to be used as a pillow for the time being. Tony stirred at that, his eyebrows furrowing as his eyes fluttered open. He looked at Pepper sleepily, blinking.

“I knew this day would come,” Pepper stated, raising her eyebrows at him.

“What day?” Tony asked, his voice rough.

“The day I'd catch you sleeping with a robot,” Pepper added, the corners of her lips curving up in amusement.

Tony straightened, rubbing his eyes and making a face at Dum-E as it whirred and gently poked its metal pincers against Tony's cheek. “This isn't what it looks like, I swear,” he replied wryly, making her laugh. There was a moment of silence, Pepper watching the dark circles under Tony's eyes and the way he wouldn't look at her.

“Did you sleep a little?” she asked, softly.

“Yeah. Woke up early, I didn't want to wake you.” He patted Dum-E's arm, pushing it away. “You should go back to bed, the sun's not even up yet. I'll join you as soon as I'm done with this.” He nodded at the mess of electronics before him and Pepper knew he was lying. “All right,” she replied softly, and smiling at him was like biting down on a mouthful of glass.

She kept a brave face on, stepping back up the stairs and into the cool darkness of their bedroom.

“I don't know how much longer I can put up with this, JARVIS.,” she whispered in the dark.

“Your departure would have unfortunate consequences, Miss Potts.”

“I know.” She sighed, exhaling slowly to ease the tension coiling in her stomach. “It's just...” She pressed her lips together. “I can't live with someone who is only at his best when the world is ending. I can't... live with him if all he's going to do is just waiting for another catastrophe to happen so he can start living again.”

“I shall miss you,” J.A.R.V.I.S said softly and she had to close her eyes against the burn building behind her eyelids.

\-------------------------------------------------

_Now_

“You know,” Tony said, repressing a wince as he stood up and putting on a smirk instead, “if you missed me that much, you could have just said.” It wasn't entirely sane to egg Loki on at the moment, Tony knew. Not when he had no idea what Loki wanted or where they were, and found himself there with no back-ups. But he would rather suffer a painful death rather than cower in fear.

It hadn't worked too badly either, the last time he'd had a chat with Loki. Well, except for the part when he'd gotten thrown out of a window, now that he thought about it.

Loki didn't seem bothered by his impertinence, merely giving him a slow once over, taking in the ashen colour of his skin and the dark circles under his eyes. Stark was half-dead already, in dire need of sustenance and warmth. Loki was not sure he cared enough to provide what the mortal needed to survive. He gave him a grin instead, one that displayed far too many teeth to be anything but terrifying.

“Yes, I found myself longing for your sharp wit and fine humour,” he drawled in reply, mocking.

Tony smirked. Banter. He could deal with banter, even half-frozen and with a possible concussion.

“You wouldn't be the first, buddy, but this is a little extreme, don't you think?” He raised an eyebrow, cocky. “I mean, I was just thinking the other day, 'hey, I wonder what's become of Behind Blue Eyes, I hope he's doing okay', and I didn't go and kidnap you, did I?”

Loki snorted, his long fingers drumming against the sculpted armrests of his throne. “Indeed not. Then again, you didn't have the means.”

Tony gave him a blank look. “Just because you could doesn't mean you should, Blitzen.” Loki arched an elegant eyebrow at him. Because he could was usually a fairly good reason for Loki to do what he wanted. Since no reply seemed forthcoming, Tony made a show of looking around curiously instead.

“Love what you've done with the place, by the way. All that ice and...” Tony made a face. “Marble, is that marble? Very nice. Where is this again?”

Loki's face lit up, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Oh, how remiss of me.” He spread his arms, grand. “Welcome to Jotunheim, Man of Iron. I do hope you will enjoy your stay.”

“Huh,” Tony replied. “Well, that'd explain why I didn't get any signal. I feel better about that. Also explains the alien guys. And the cold.” He tilted his head to the side, hiding the growing feeling of dread in the pit of his stomach behind a screen of sarcasm.

“How come you're not rotting away in a cell on... Asgard or wherever, anyway?”

Loki grinned, shark-like.

“I escaped.”

Tony pointed at him, accusingly. “See, I knew this would happen. I told them. I said guys, let 'im leave with Blondie and he'll be gone in a week. But nobody listens to me.”

Loki narrowed his eyes at him, curiously.

“You knew I would escape.”

“Well, yeah. You're a slippery son of a bitch and your brother's a nice guy but he isn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed.”

“Thor is a bumbling fool blinded by sentiment,” Loki agreed, snarling. “And he is not my brother.”

Tony waved a hand at him, dismissive. “Adopted brother, same difference.” He stepped closer rashly, studying Loki with cautious eyes. Loki had not tried to kill him or even hurt him so far, but you never knew with that guy. One little dick joke and boom, out of the window you went. “So, what do you want?” he prompted.

Loki straightened up, propping his elbows on the armrests of the throne, fingers steepled against his mouth. “You do realise that it is improper for you not to kneel, when talking to the king?” he deflected, his tone flat.

Tony refused to back down. If he was going to die, he'd make sure to be as infuriating as possible first. “Good thing there are no kings present, then,” he taunted back, bold enough to grin.

Loki took it with no apparent displeasure, his eyes gleaming. His grin spread like a carnivorous plague, too many teeth on display. “This is where you are wrong, Stark. This throne is mine, and lawfully so.” He still looked somewhat puzzled about this, about the fact that he had not had to usurp power in any way.  
  
“The former king, Laufey, was my father, so Jötunheim is mine to inherit.” His smile darkened, a slight manic edge appearing. “What's more, I killed him in single combat, which is another accepted way of becoming King, to the Jotnar. I sit, you could say, twice-crowned, on this throne.”

Tony gave him a blank look. “Uh. Well done? I mean, good for you. That's what you wanted, right? To rule.”

There were a few seconds of silence, stretching between them as Loki's eyes slowly narrowed and Tony smirked at him, with all the arrogance of someone who thought he could see right through you. Loki was sharply reminded of how _dangerous_ Tony Stark actually was, and how even like this, far from home, far from his machinery, the little gears of that damaged brain were going at full speed. Time to slow him down.

Loki raised a condescending eyebrow and lazily flicked his wrist in Stark's direction. A blast of magic shot through the frozen air, pushing down upon Stark's shoulders, the pressure harsh enough to make his knees buckle and hit the ground, hard. Loki held him there effortlessly.  
  
“Why, yes,” he belatedly replied, his smirk belaying the mildness of his tone. “It is most pleasing.”

Tony looked up, forcing himself to grin through the pain in his knees. “Doesn't count if you're making me, Comet. Or is that good enough for you? Are you so desperate to be adored that even forced loyalty gets your rocks off?"

Loki watched him coolly for a few seconds, the corners of his mouth twitching. “Do you think that if you annoy me enough, I will kill you faster?” Loki asked casually, as if the matter were of no great importance.

“Worth a try,” Tony replied with an aborted shrug, Loki's magic still firmly holding him down. He winced inwardly as he saw Loki's eyes glint with mischief and anticipatory delight.

“Don't be foolish, Stark.” Loki smirked at him, putting both hands on the armrests on the throne and pushing himself up, prowling closer. He was almost upon Tony, who was bravely trying not to flinch back, when there was a firm knock on the door, Bylestir showing himself in with important news from the western front.

“I shall see you tomorrow then,” Loki stated before he left, grinning. “Provided you survive the night.”

\--------------------------------------

A couple of guards had come to fetch him again, throwing him back into the cell, leaving him there to freeze. As the light went down in the already dimly-lit cell, Tony found himself thinking that, well. That was _it_ , then.

He'd cracked the case of his phone, knowing fully well what he'd find inside, tinkering with the small components. There wasn't enough to produce anything powerful enough to be a weapon (or potentially break the door's heavy lock), much to his dismay. He made a mental note to correct this should he ever get home, idly wondering whether Pepper would let him market a phone that could potentially be turned into a bomb. _Probably_ not.

Oh God, Pepper.

He tried not to think about it too much, managing to re-wire the battery of the phone for it to overheat, producing a small but powerful source of warmth that lasted a couple of hours. When it finally died, the Stark logo flickering before it went out, Tony was left alone in the dark, the faint glow of the arc-reactor sending eerie blue glints on the frozen stones around him.

He got up then, refusing to admit his defeat just yet, pacing up and down the small room to try and keep himself warm until his legs ached and his lungs burnt, his breath producing less and less fog as his body temperature dropped.

He didn't want to give up but he was tired, so very tired, and maybe it was always meant to be that way. He'd rather have gone out with a bang, saving the planet in an explosion of golds and reds, something flashy and heroic. Instead he was going to die in a freezing cell under Loki's ice palace, on a distant realm nobody seemed to care about.

He curled into a ball, back against the wall, slipping his fingers under his knees to try and keep them warm. Toes, he could afford to lose. Fingers would be a bitch, though. He pressed his forehead to his knees, shivering uncontrollably, his skin tingling and prickling unpleasantly as the cold bit into his flesh. Whoever ever said that dying of cold was not painful was a fucking liar, he thought, letting the numbness take him.

 


	2. Chapter 2

“Stark.”

Tony chose not to acknowledge that.

The tip of a boot poked him in the ribs, none too gently.

“Stark,” the voice insisted.

Tony cracked an eye open with great effort, closing it as soon as leather boots and the hem of a green cape came into view. Hell no. That wasn't worth trying to stay alive for.

“Dead already?” Loki taunted. “Mortals are such petty creatures.”

Tony wanted to protest, to shoot back one last witty come back but he couldn't, his body too exhausted to even shiver and gather warmth. All he could manage was a grunt which he hoped conveyed a general meaning of _fuck. you._

Loki chuckled and Tony could hear him shift, crouching next to his prone body. There was a strange hum suddenly, a pull around them as if the air had grown alive, crackling faintly with what tingled like static.

_Magic_ , Tony's numb brain registered with a wince. Because that always boded well.

He didn't have the strength to protest as Loki touched him, long fingers splaying over his shoulder blades, not particularly warm even through the thin material of his T-shirt. The contact made him tingle unpleasantly.

But then there was _heat_ , pouring from Loki's fingers like honey and into the flesh of his back, warming him up from the inside, blissful and radiant. Tony had to groan and push back into it because it felt glorious, it felt like being born again, the first kiss of the sun upon his warmth-deprived skin and he did not care -could not care- that it was Loki providing it.

Tony made a strangled noise as his body warmed up - half pleasure, half gratefulness - and made a face as he heard Loki chuckle. The long fingers splayed onto his back tapped against his skin and began to withdraw, causing Tony to groan in protest. He leaned up to follow the move, going on his hands and knees. He felt shaky and weak, his head hanging between his arms shamefully as he silently begged for more.

Much to his relief Loki seemed curious enough to let him, stroking up until he reached the nape of his neck and then down, pausing just above his tail-bone. It was a slow, invasive touch, lazily inquisitive, as if trying to measure how easy exactly it would be to break Tony's spine. Tony wasn't sure he liked it, but he needed the heat too much to lean away.

It lasted for a minute longer and then Loki was standing up, watching Tony with cool eyes as he tried to sit up and glare at his captor. “So, what'll it be, today?” Tony taunted, his voice hoarse but still defiant. Loki raised an eyebrow at him, politely asking for clarifications. “You going to make me kneel again for your enjoyment? Make me grovel to pander to your damaged ego?”

The expression on Loki's face stayed carefully neutral and Tony knew he was bothering him. Loki grinned, slowly. “I believe you already have, today,” he replied haughtily, smirking as he strode out. Tony blanched as Loki seemed to take the little warmth that had built in the room away.

“No, wait,” he called, scrambling to his feet. Loki paused in the doorway, looking over his shoulder disdainfully.

“What was that?” Tony asked (demanded, really).

Loki turned around more fully.

“You were dying.”

Tony shrugged, a small but practised move.

“So?”

Loki seemed amused.

“What would be the point of taking the trouble to bring you here if it were to let you die so quickly?”

Tony nodded curtly, lifting his chin. That made sense. He could deal with this, he just needed to find out something. “Right,” he replied conversationally. “So, what do you want?”

Loki watched him with the same infuriatingly grin, as if he knew what Tony was doing all-too-well.

“C'mon, Blitzen, there must be something. What is it? You're not attacking Earth again. First time was half-assed enough.” Loki opened his mouth to protest but Tony was quicker. “Don't bother. I know a half-assed attempt at world-domination when I see one and _that_ was definitely not the best you could do. So, not Earth. Asgard's more likely, but you don't have the power.” Tony's eyes narrowed shrewdly, his overactive brain running at full regime in the quickly chilling air.

“Is that it? You need more power? Want me to build something?” That would be okay, Tony decided. He'd been kidnapped by people who wanted to use him before and it had worked out just <i>fine</i>. Well, apart from the whole shrapnel in his heart thing, but what can you do.

“I have power already,” Loki replied coldly, something dark and amused glinting in his eyes. “An army.” Loki's lips twitched and Tony knew he remembered.

“Yeah, the avatar popsicles out there seem to like you all right.” Tony paused. “Which leaves the small matter of transport to solve. Einstein–Rosen Bridge is broken, or so I've heard.” Tony raised his eyebrows, going on when Loki showed no reaction.

“The Bifrost. Rainbow bridge thing. You want me to repair that?” He made a typical 'yeah, I could probably pull that off' face.”

“You don't have the knowledge.”

“I could learn. Or make some.”

“Yes.” Loki tilted his head to the side. “You could.”

Tony wasn't sure of whether he should feel flattered or terrified. Loki merely watched him for a few more seconds, long fingers curling around the heavy handle of the door. “I have no need for the Bifrost.”

“What do you want, then?” Tony snapped, dark eyes glaring.

Loki grinned. “Entertainment.”

The door closed behind him and Tony was left alone, his breathing fogging the chilly air. “Son of a bitch.”

\-----------------------------------------------

The next time Tony woke up he was curled on his side, the side of his face mashed against something that tickled his nose and smelled foul. He felt warm enough, this time. Not as much as he would have liked but still a huge improvement from the freezing ground in his cell. It was a struggle to force himself to open his eyes, staring blearily at the brown fur blanket he was wrapped in.

Wait, _fur_? His first thought was that Pepper was going to kill him. Then he remembered that Pepper had left. Then he remembered that Loki had abducted him and that there was no way he could be held responsible for heartless household linen choices. In that order. _Priorities_.

He could hear voices coming from behind him and as he cautiously rolled on his back he realised he was lying on a strange kind of sofa. It was all elaborately carved marble and cushions made with an odd kind of leather that still smelled of the animal it had been taken from. He had also been wrapped in a large fur blanket, large enough to make Tony a little wary of asking what sort of animal it had been taken from.

It smelled very musky too, but the room was far too cold to even consider getting rid of it. Sitting up he looked above the back of the sofa cautiously, narrowing his eyes. There were two Frost Giant discussing what seemed to be battle plan on the other side of the room, gesturing towards a huge table covered with maps and parchments.

One of them was much shorter than the other and still quite recognisably Loki, though his skin and eyes were the same striking colours as the other Frost Giants Tony had encountered. _Uh_. The other was taller and looked sharper, his face rugged but not unkind, more clever than Tony would have pictured possible with such features.

“It seemed your pet hasn't died after all, your Majesty,” the Giant Loki called Bylestir said suddenly, turning to look at him.

Loki spared him a bored look. “Mortals are more resilient to you would imagine. Like vermin.”

“I resent that,” Tony spoke up, watching with sudden wariness as Bylestir's face registered what he imagined passed for surprise there and stepped closer curiously.

“I have never seen a human before,” Bylestir said, not unkindly though the tone of his voice grated on Tony's nerves nearly as much as the use of the word 'pet'. He stood up on shaky legs, taking the blanket with him and lifting his chin. He didn't back away when Bylestir came to stand before him, nearly twice as tall as him, cocking his head curiously.

“Well, that's all nice and all. We'll take you to a petting zoo next time, yeah?” Bylestir blinked at him.

“Quit staring, it's rude. Not my fault your boring-as-hell realm isn't evolved enough to have invented inter-realm travel. If Rudolph over there isn't in a sharing mood -and we both know he never is- I guess you're shit out of luck.”

“Be careful,” Loki drawled, wry. “It bites.”

Tony bared his teeth in reply. Bylestir did not seem particularly impressed. “You let him speak to you this way, your highness?” Bylestir sounded more surprised than angered and Loki smirked in response.

“Do you think I should have him flogged to teach him some manners?”

Tony felt his stomach roll and he stepped forward to protest. “Hey, now...”

Bylestir interrupted him. “I don't think he would survive a Jötun flogging,” he pointed out, watching Tony speculatively.

“Probably not,” Loki agreed, sounding bored. Before Tony could reply anything he put his hand on the map, decisively. “Here. We attack here.”

Bylestir straightened, turning around without even sparing a backward glance to Tony. “I think that would be best, yes. I shall ready the armies.” Bylestir bowed and strode out, the heavy doors falling shut behind him.

Tony waited a few seconds, watching Loki ignore him. “So, Comet. Big battle coming up?” he asked, stepping closer.

“Would you like to be flogged?” Loki asked idly.

“At this point, I think it might be best,” Tony bit in answer, shadowed dark eyes glaring in his direction. “I'll be dead pretty soon anyway, I think. There's only so much a guy can survive without eating in this weather.”

Loki raised an eyebrow at him, as if that hadn't occurred to him. “How long?”

Tony's mouth went dry. “Provided the cold doesn't kill me first, I'll be useless in a couple of days, probably dead by the end of the week.”

“Disappointing.”

“You don't say.”

They stared at each other for a while, Loki finally relenting. He rang a bell with studied annoyance, scowling at the servant that bowed in. “Take him to the kitchens,” he ordered curtly. “And feed him.”

The servant bowed again, looking at Tony expectantly. Wrapping the blanket around him, Tony followed, not bothering to thank Loki.

\----------------------------------

“Your majesty, the kitchens are on fire!”

Loki turned around slowly, levelling a glare to the servant panting in the doorway. A cloud of acrid smoke was steadily filtering in from the corridor. “What?”

“Fire, your majesty. It started in the kitchens and spread to the whole East wall and commons!”

Loki narrowed his eyes, stepping closer and watching as a few servants ran in direction of the kitchen. Smoke was coming from the end of the corridor, thick and pungent. “A fire.” Loki repeated, raising an eyebrow. Not an unheard thing on Jotunheim, but still fairly unlikely in a land of ice. “How did that happen?” His tone was flat but inquisitive.

The servant seemed to hesitate. “It started in the lower kitchen, my liege. Someone set fire to...” the servant paused. “I know not. There was an explosion. The oil reserve seemed involved? Someone must have dripped a flammable mixture down the drains of the waste disposal system, and the entire building caught fire.”

“Someone?” Loki prompted.

“I think it was your human pet, your majesty,” the servant replied, fearfully.

“Of course. Where is he now?”

“Nowhere to be found. I could look.”

“No, you handle the fire. I'll send the guards after Stark. Get me Bylestir.”

The servant bowed and hurried out, leaving Loki in the doorway, his nose scrunching up at the smell. He closed the door, striding to the balcony. It was cold out, too cold even for snow. Leaning over the frozen railing Loki could just see the East wing of the palace, yellowish flames licking at the burst windows. Black smoke slowly went up, mixing with the heavy clouds.

Loki watched his palace burn for a long time and then he began to laugh, his lips twitching almost imperceptibly at first, before it became a full burst of laughter, low and gleeful.

\-----------------------------------------------

Tony's knees hit the cold, unforgiving marble of the throne room again and he couldn't help but hiss in pain, shuddering as the cold coming from the guards that were holding him down seeped into his shoulders.

It hadn't taken very long for Loki's guards to find him, much to his dismay. He'd known he would get caught. He'd started the fire because he _could_ and seeing the right ingredients before him had made the impulse difficult to resist. But with no back ups, no way of going home and the hopeless stretch of a frozen desert before him, he'd known all along that he wouldn't be able to escape.

If he was going to die at Loki's hand, Tony'd rather go with a bang.

“Leave us,” Loki said, and the guards straightened up and marched out heavily, the gilded door banging shut after them. Loki didn't sound angry, Tony noticed as he struggled to get to his feet, his knees aching. That was probably a bad sign.

He looked up, trying not to seem scared at all, startling a little when he abruptly noticed that Loki was standing right before him, looming close with a malevolent glint in his eyes. The first thought that hit him was that Loki smelled really, really nice. Which was ridiculous. There was a crackle in the air and something harshly weighed on his shoulders, making his knees buckle. Tony was better prepared this time, giving in to the magic because he knew he had no other choice but landing much more adroitly, sparing another jolt to his knees.

“I should kill you,” Loki stated, his voice quiet and dead serious. He stepped around Stark, circling him like a predator. He stopped behind him, where Stark couldn't twist his head to look at him. “I rather think I will.” His hand came to rest on the nape of Tony's neck, cold and gentle like a blade.

“You're not going to kill me,” Tony replied steadily. Loki's hand felt heavy on his neck, somehow heavier than it should have. “I'm the only thing here you're even remotely interested in.” Tony's voice did not falter but his heart was pounding with a mixture of fear and twisted excitation. This was dancing underneath a guillotine blade. This was a game worth playing.

Loki considered the human kneeling in front of him. Stark was cold again, his body weak with the need for sustenance, exiled in a realm he could not escape and yet, yet, defiant still. Refusing to be scared, refusing to be bullied. So foolish it was becoming remarkable.

“I could hurt you,” he countered after a few seconds. “That would certainly be interesting.”

Tony swallowed dryly. He'd been there before. Kidnapped and held against his will, water-boarded until he could take no more and accepted to do what was requested of him. Except Loki didn't want anything as simple as a weapon. Loki wanted his _soul_ and Tony would never give in.

“Great,” he replied, trying to sound more sarcastic than scared. “Torture. Always a fan-favourite.” He sighed, loudly. “I've had pain before. Could have it again. Get used to it.”

Loki snorted. “You have not known pain yet, Stark. Not real pain.” He grinned. “Humans do get used to the most dire situations. But at what cost?” Loki's voice sounded almost conversational though there was an edge to it, an all-too-real threat of turning his words into a reality. “Pain turns humans into beasts. I could make you a mindless animal, heedless of anything but its own suffering.” He grinned again but his joy was hollow. “And you would kneel, then. You would do anything.”

Tony's shoulders were growing tense, panic making his stomach clench. “But where would be the fun in that?” he still managed to reply, gritting his teeth.

There was no answer. Loki's fingers slipped into his hair, stroking up against the lie of it. Tony shuddered but he didn't try to lean away, pushing back into Loki's touch rather, insolently.

It made Loki want to smile and frown at the same time. “What will I have to do for you to fear me?”

Tony frowned but he still didn't recoil, aiming for a nonchalant shrug despite the goosebumps that were raising on his arms, his hairs standing on end at the feeling of Loki's fingers threading through his hair.

“Don't know but hey, I'm sure you'll think of something. You're supposed to be good at this, right?” Tony flippantly replied, closing his eyes as he bore Loki's touch.

“Be careful for what you wish for...” Loki taunted. He paused when he realised that he'd been petting Stark for a few seconds now, like a pet he would be rather fond of. That would not do. He tightened his grip, grabbing a handful of Stark's hair and using it to bodily haul him to his feet.

Tony yelped but he didn't struggle, scrambling to get on his feet and ease the pressure on his scalp, his lips curling down when he realised he could barely stand on tiptoes with Loki holding him up like this. He looked up into shrewd green eyes and swallowed dryly, watching Loki as well as he could with his head forcefully tilted back. His neck was dreadfully exposed like this, Tony realised, tendons bulging under the strain of Loki's grip, his pulse fluttering madly underneath the sensitive skin.

Loki leaned closer, taking in the panic artfully concealed in Tony's blown pupils, the curl of his mouth, the pounding of his heart. “Oh, but I like this,” he stated and smiled, a grin that showed too many teeth.

“Yeah,” Tony managed to reply, winded. “This is loads of fun. Don't regret coming.” He smiled back, dark eyes crinkling at the corners because Loki wasn't the only one who could lie. Tony was quite good at deflection himself, quite good at putting up a screen between himself and the world and letting it see only what it wanted to see.

Loki let him go, turning around and pacing back to his black throne slowly. “Did you light that fire?” he inquired, long fingers trailing up a sharp armrest.

Tony discreetly rubbed the back of his head and put up another grin, trying to look relaxed though his shoulders felt so tense they actually hurt. “You said you wanted entertainment. I aim to please.”

Loki snorted, stepping around the throne and looking back at Tony, his face unreadable. “Three days, you said, until you die of starvation."

Tony nodded, his brown eyes growing lifeless as he hid his dread.

Loki tilted his head to the side in acknowledgement. “Let's put that to the test, shall we?” He looked mocking as he rung the bell next to the throne, summoning a party of guards. “Take him,” he stated, lazily gesturing in Tony's direction, discarding him like a broken toy.

\-----------------------------------

Tony's first and only thought as he came to himself was that everything ached. He could feel magic pouring into him, warm but pernicious, the now familiar hum of Loki's signature.

“We've got to stop meeting like this, sweetheart,” he managed to grit out, confirming his suspicion that Loki was standing right over him from the light chuckle he could hear. His eyelids felt heavy, too heavy to open, but he could tell by the uneven stone ground he was lying upon that he was still in that damn cell.

“What happened to letting me starve to death?” he asked after a few seconds of intense struggling to find his voice.

“You lasted four days,” Loki replied, cold fingers moving from his forehead to his stomach slowly, the ache burning there settling down. It made Tony cough, an ugly, rasping noise that hurt his lungs. Loki's magic readily moved there and Tony could feel his breathing go easier and easier as it worked.

“Yeah, that's me,” he finally whispered, opening his eyes at length. The room was dim around them, Loki crouching over him, his face in the shadows.

“What time is it?” Tony didn't give Loki the time to reply. “Did you watch over me?” He raised an eyebrow, not knowing whether Loki would see it or not. “Can't decide whether that's sweet or creepy.” Loki's magic twisted violently in the pit of his stomach, making him gasp in pain. “Alright, alright Blitzen, don't get your panties in a bunch,” he panted, gripping Loki's wrist tightly in his hand.

Loki didn't budge but the pain eased, his magic slowly withdrawing, leaving Tony's battered body warmer and stronger, not on the verge of dying anymore. Tony's grip tightened when Loki shifted as if he meant to get up.

“I want to make a deal,” he stated steadily.

Loki paused. “What kind of deal.” The tone of Loki's voice was flat, giving away nothing.

“The what-will-I-have-to-do-to-stay-alive kind,” Tony shot back. “I want regular meals, warmer clothes and a proper place to sleep.” He tried to sit up but Loki's hand was still on his chest, keeping him down. Perhaps that was just as well. He didn't feel strong enough to be in any kind of upright position at the moment anyway. Loki didn't reply but he didn't move either, which was all the incentive Tony needed to push on.

“So? What'll it be?” he prompted, shifting to try and make Loki follow the move so that his face would be in the dim light coming from the door. This was a dangerous game to play, a game upon which his survival depended and Tony was going in blind, literally. “What do you want in exchange, fearless leader?” he asked again, twisting a little and inwardly cheering when Loki followed, pinning him down again and bringing the lower part of his face in the light.

Loki's lips twitched up in what looked like a condescending smile. _Uh. Not good._ When he replied his voice was slow and silky smooth. “What do you have that I could possibly want?”

And that was the million dollar question, Tony thought, one he had been pondering over and over in the past few days, endlessly shivering in his cell. “I think you know,” he said, confidently. If he was lucky there'd be something. Loki would show his hand and Tony would be able to decide if he wanted to call or fold.

But Loki only grinned. “Tell me,” he requested, and Tony cursed inwardly. No dice. There was no reading Loki like this, with just the firm set of his jaw and the lopsided curve of his thin lips in the light.

There were only two things he could offer at this point, Tony thought frantically. One was out of the question. The other was... slightly less out of the question. So he took his cockiest tone and replied.

“You want me to spell it out, Blitzen? Alright. Sex. That's what I'm offering. You keep me alive, I'll keep you entertained during your cold, lonely nights. I'll even warm your bed if you'd like, though somehow you don't really strike me as the cuddling...” Tony stopped abruptly.

Loki was laughing, a soft, musical noise that sounded more surprised than mocking. “There I was, so eager to see which part of your mind you would be willing to give up to me that I had not considered you might offer your body," he commented, his head tilting to the side.

“My mind isn't up for trade,” Tony retorted immediately, his tone sharp.

“Pity. It is remarkable, in some ways,” Loki replied smoothly, his fingers curling against Tony's chest, putting enough pressure there for him to feel the edge of the reactor dig into his skin. Loki shook his head, still grinning. “I have no interest,” he replied, sounding final.

“Don't lie, Comet. I've seen you looking,” Tony replied confidently, though he really, _really_ hadn't.

He was expecting Loki to laugh at him again but instead his mouth thinned, as if he were displeased. Silence stretched between them for a few long seconds and Tony was suddenly glad for the darkness because his eyes were getting comically wide.

“Have you, now,” Loki finally replied, his voice low. He leaned in abruptly, his face coming into the light. His eyes were furious, his pupils blown wide enough to nearly cover his green irises, not entirely, Tony could tell, because of the dimness in the room.

_Holy. Shit_.

“Yeah,” Tony lied with an assurance he didn't feel. “I have. Pretty obvious, really.” He knew he has getting into trouble but his mouth went on despite his better judgement. “So what do you say?”

Loki glared at him for a while before straightening, retreating in the shadows. “Did you not consider, Stark, that if I wanted this I could have taken it by force?”

Tony forced himself to take a slow breath, calming his pounding heart. This was not going as he'd imagined at all. “Yeah, but that's not what you want. You'd have done that already. You want me to comply, not struggle.”

Loki's fingers curled around Tony's jaw and he had to steel himself not to jerk it out of Loki's light grip, reminding himself of the deal he was trying to make. “What a desperate measure this must be for you,” Loki mocked, tapping his chin before he withdrew, disappearing in the shadows completely. Tony knew he was still there, crouching above him, a darker shape against the backdrop of the frozen cell.

He refused to back down, lifting his chin defiantly.

“Desperate times. Make up your mind. Deal, or no deal?”

Loki stayed silent for what Tony felt to be an eternity before he got up, dusting his shoulders nonchalantly. He stepped over Tony's reclining body, the hem of his cape brushing across his chest. Tony had to resist the urge to grip it in despair.

Loki stopped at the door, his profile looking sharp against the stark light that came from outside.

“Deal.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> beta'ed, once more, by the lovely kccasey.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry this took so long. It was a difficult chapter for me to write, with a lot of staring at a blank page. TDW came out in the middle of it too, making me reassess my conception of the characters and re-write part of it (no spoilers, btw). I hope you enjoy nonetheless, let me know :)

 

 

To say that the rest of the week was a bit of a let-down was an understatement.

He wasn't sure what he'd expected to happen after he'd struck his unbelievably unwise deal with Loki, but he'd expected _something_. He had tried not to think about it, not to think about being grabbed by the throat, thrown face-first onto the bed and roughly –

Alright, okay, so maybe he'd thought about it, the idea sending thrills of terror and something that felt dangerously like arousal through him.

But what he hadn't expected was for absolutely nothing to happen.

Loki had kept his end of the bargain, surprisingly enough. A few hours after he left Tony's cell, a couple of guards had come to fetch him, leading him to the small room that was to be his. It was nothing to write home about but it was still a huge improvement, featuring a bed, a few barren shelves, a plain table and chair, a massive wardrobe full of furry clothes way too big for him but much warmer than his own and -mother of all luxuries – a fireplace.

He also got three meals a day, mostly fish and soup and strange, tasteless vegetables, but he didn't complain.

Okay so, who was he kidding, he did complain a lot, mostly to the Jotün servant that came to bring him his meals and to the guards standing before his door at all times, but he didn't really _mean_ it. It wasn't too bad after all, except for the fact that he was still a fucking prisoner on a planet that was nothing but ice and bad taste in clothing. That, and the crushing boredom.

He hadn't seen Loki since they'd struck the deal. He was trying to tell himself not to be disappointed, because that would have made him seriously question his sanity. But honesty, he kind of was.

\-------------------------------------------------------

“So, I was thinking,” Tony said the next time the servant who seemed to have lucked out with bringing him his meals came into the room with a tray. The Frost Giant merely watched him with steady red eyes. “May Ymir grant you strength and ice, Midgardian,” the creature acknowledged, a saying that Tony had learned to identify as a polite greeting. Talk about a warm welcome.

“Yeah, ice to you too. I hope your eyeballs freeze off and everything,” Tony replied easily, grinning when the servant made a low noise Tony supposed passed for laughing on Jotunheim. He was alright, actually, Tony liked him. Well, _him_. Tony wasn't entirely sure, and he didn't know whether asking would be considered offensive. In the meantime, since he was about twice as tall as Tony himself and looked like he could wrestle a polar bear and win, Tony had decided to go with he.

His name was Vafthrudnir but Tony didn't call him that because _what the hell_. Vafthrudnir didn't mind. There were a lot of things Vafthrudnir didn't mind, and Tony supposed he ought to count himself lucky for that.

“So, what's on the menu today? Fish soup, or fish soup?” Tony put a hand over his heart, gasping. “Don't tell me it's fish soup, I'm not sure I could handle the surprise.” Vafthrudnir appeared amused as he set the tray down, pouring Tony a cup of the strange herbal tea Frost giants seemed to favour. He had heated it up too and it steamed lightly in the room as Tony sat down.

“You're my favourite Frost Giant, did I ever tell you that?” Vafthrudnir's forehead wrinkled slightly and Tony was pretty sure that if he'd had eyebrows, he would have been frowning right then.

“What did you mean to ask me, Midgardian?” he prompted instead, tilting his head to the side. Tony gestured at the chair in front of him. “Sit down. I can't talk to you if you're going to stand there looking all tall, blue and alien.”

Vafthrudnir looked definitely confused now, glancing at the chair and then back to Tony. “It is improper,” he replied, sounding a little hesitant.

Tony picked up his spoon. “Improper?”

Vafthrudnir nodded. “To sit with one of higher status.”

Tony snorted. “I'm a war prisoner. There's no way my status is higher than yours, popsicle.”

“The King values you.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Yeah, _pretty_ sure he doesn't.”

“He asked after you as soon as he got back from the battlefield, this morning.”

Tony set his spoon down slowly. “Did he, now?”

The Frost Giant nodded again, staying quiet as Tony stared at his soup. He didn't interrupt, waiting for Tony to either ask again or dismiss him.

After a few seconds Tony started eating again, carefully falling back into his usual playful demeanour. “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Vafthrudnir put his hands behind his back.

“About Loki.”

“The King,” Vafthrudnir corrected, sternly.

“Yeah, him.” Tony slurped a spoonful of soup, making a slight face. “Is he known to, you know. Sleep around?”

Vafthrudnir's eyes narrowed a little. “I do not understand.”

Tony considered him carefully. “Look, I don't know how you guys call this. Wooing? Merry-making? Give me thy hand, fair maiden, and I shall slip it down my breeches?”

“You are asking about the King's bedmates?” Vafthrudnir guessed at length, taking a while to process Tony's rambling.

“Atta boy,” Tony confirmed, pointing his spoon at him. “Can you tell me? If it's not _improper_?” he teased and he could swear Vafthrudnir was smiling a little.

“There is none that I know about. It is said that since the King was raised by the Aesir, he does not have Jotün tastes. His mind is focused solely on his wars.”

“ _His_ wars?” Tony repeated, watching Vafthrudnir shift slightly in an unusual display or uneasiness.

“Some of us disagree,” he replied, stiffly.

Tony held up his hands. “Hey, don't look at me like that. I disagree with everything Loki does, on principle. Pretty hard. I'm a master of disagreement, that's me.”

Vafthrudnir relaxed a little. He considered Tony seriously.

“Has he asked you?”

Tony had a sip from his tea. “Come again?”

“The King. Has he asked you to be his bedmate?”

Tony set his cup down with exaggerate care.

“You know, you're not nearly as dumb as the Norse myths make you out to be.”

Vafthrudnir had nothing to say to that and they observed one another for a while before Tony relented. “I offered. He agreed,” he answered, curtly.

Vafthrudnir didn't say anything, as if afraid to push too far.

“Yet, you do not like him,” he guessed at length, cautiously.

“I was trying to give him a good reason not to kill me,” Tony explained, shrugging.

“You gave up your honour for your life,” Vafthrudnir stated, making Tony look up sharply.

“You could say that. Is that something that's frowned upon, here?”

“It is a practical decision,” Vafthrudnir replied, which was neither yes nor no, Tony noticed. “Sometimes it takes more strength to give up your honour than to maintain it.”

Tony scratched his stubbly chin, unconvinced. “Yeah. I wasn't actually expecting him to say yes, though. Not sure why he did.”

“It's the warmth,” Vafthrudnir asserted, brushing breadcrumbs from the table and setting out to put more wood in the fireplace in his slow but powerful way.

“The warmth?”

“Yes. There are very few warm-blooded creatures like you, here. I assume it would be pleasing to the touch.”

Tony's eyes widened, his lips curving up in a cheeky smile. “Are you coming on to me, hoarfrost?”

Vafthrudnir seemed to understand the tone of Tony's jibe if not the meaning, and made a noise that sounded suspiciously like a snort. “You are much too small for me. I'd crush you like a twiglet,” he retorted pleasantly, stirring the ashes until they sparked again.

Tony laughed, rubbing his face. “I resent that.” He watched Vafthrudnir put some more pieces of what looked like coal in the fireplace, grinning as he turned around.

“Was that what you meant to ask me, when I first came in?” Vafthrudnir inquired, and Tony shook his head.

“No, actually. I'm forbidden anything I could use to build a weapon, but I was wondering whether you could bring me any books...”

\---------------------------------------------------------

Later that day Tony found himself standing in the middle of the throne room, watching Loki converse with a couple of Frost Giants. He easily recognised one of them as being Bylestir, leaning down and agitatedly talking to Loki who sat on the throne in his Jotun form, his eyebrows furrowed. There was something unnatural in the way he held himself, Tony realised, his right arm hanging limp by his side and his body holding itself straight rigidly, as if slouching would cause him pain.

Not that Loki ever slouched, mind you, but he usually displayed a sort of effortless elegance that was missing at the moment. Tony didn't care either way, tapping his foot on the marble floor as minutes stretched, causing the guard next to him to tighten his grip on his shoulder.

He'd been attempting to read a Jotun parchment, listening to Vafthrudnir's patient explanations about Jotun grammar when they'd come to fetch him, curtly stating that he'd been summoned by the King. Vafthrudnir had stood up, bowing and swiftly putting the parchments away.

He'd gotten Tony's coat out for him, knowing he'd be too cold to cross the freezing corridors without it, his cool hands patting the fabric down in a way that was probably more comforting than strictly necessary.

“I'll tell you how it went, then,” Tony said lightly, managing a smile.

Vafthrudnir did not meet his gaze but the small face he made was clearly for Tony's benefit.

“I am not sure I wish to know,” he replied softly, his nose scrunching up in a way that did not look nearly formidable enough for a Frost Giant, making Tony laugh.

“You keep telling yourself that, popsicle.”

He felt much less brave now, standing in the huge cold room with Loki's poison green eyes staring at him unblinkingly as Bylestir talked in his ear. He tried not to show it, lifting his chin and raising his eyebrows in silent challenge.

“Leave us,” Loki abruptly commanded, his voice cracking in the room, low and rough. Bylestir straightened up and a strange expression passed on his face. “What about the battle, my King?” he asked, sounding anxious. Loki ripped his gaze away from Tony and set it back on him. “We ride at once, as planned.”

Bylestir nodded and bowed his head before he left, taking the guards with him. Tony waited for the heavy gilded doors to close behind them before he spoke up.

“Going places?” he asked in a casual tone, quite pleased to note that his voice did not tremble or crack, its teasing tone perfectly composed.

Loki actually indulged him, putting his good arm on the armrest of his throne and pushing himself up in a slow move that probably demanded more effort than he made it look.

“I am to return to the battlefield immediately.”

Tony watched as blue slowly receded from Loki's skin, his eyes going back to their usual colour.

“And you managed to squeeze me in your busy schedule? 'm flattered.”

Loki answering grin somehow managed to be playful and malevolent at the same time.

“I would not want to leave without having the pleasure of your company,” he retorted.

Tony snorted rudely. “Right.” He watched the way Loki was standing, not limping but definitely hurt. If you knew how to look, you could tell he was favouring his left side heavily and dark circles underlined his bright eyes. “Can you even get it up?” Tony chose to reply. “No offence Comet, but you look like you could use some rest.”

The grin on Loki's face grew, becoming shark-like and lethal. Tony refused to acknowledge the shiver it sent down his spine. “This is the second time you have questioned my manhood, Anthony Stark,” he pointed out, stepping closer slowly.

Tony shrugged easily. “I'm lucky there are no windows this time, hey?”

Loki's lips thinned into a flat white line. Stark's taunting did not affect him as such, but he found the man's lack of fear (or, more accurately, his ability to conceal it) to be grating. Then again, that was easy to fix.

Shutting Stark up required endless creativity but Loki's favourite method had always been the bluntest, grabbing him by the throat and putting enough strength in the move to bodily lift him to his toes.

“You are aware that I could make this very unpleasant for you, are you not?” he hissed while Tony frantically gripped his fingers, trying to pry them away. His eyes were huge, his heartbeat climbing up though he was not quite choking yet, leaning in and standing on his tiptoes to try and get some leverage. It did no good and he stopped struggling fairly quickly, not wanting to give Loki the satisfaction to see him panic.

“This already unpleasant,” he grit out, glaring. A chill went down his spine when he realised how close Loki was now, his sharp eyes looking even colder from up close. Tony's eye closed when Loki's nose brushed against his cheek, as if afraid to lose it. “Put me down,” he requested, leaning away from Loki as much as he could.

Loki only snarled, baring his teeth as if he meant to bite Stark's cheek, eyes narrowing. “You are not in a position to make any demands, I'm afraid,” he countered malignly.

It was truly a wonder, how insolent Stark could be even when Loki was able kill him with a mere flick of his wrist. He glanced down as Tony's cape slipped to the ground with a heavy rustle, the laces binding it at the base of his throat coming loose. Underneath Stark wore clothes made of a lighter material and the light from the arc reactor shone through weakly, a familiar and yet unexplainable blue glow.

Loki's gaze was drawn to it, his grip on Tony's throat tightening almost absent-mindedly, making him twitch in pain. Tony's eyes widened as Loki reached for his chest with his bad arm, panic bursting in the pit of his stomach like a cold wave.

His body went rigid with fear as Loki's fingers brushed against his collarbone, cool even through the material of his shirt, tugging at his collar to expose the arc reactor. The fabric pulled tight against the back of Tony's neck but it did not give, impairing Loki's exploration.

Tony gasped as he was suddenly released, staggering back and panting for breath, both his hands automatically going to his throat to rub his bruised skin gently. He glared at Loki but before he could say anything Loki's commanding voice rang through the room.

“Remove this.” Loki was staring at Tony's shirt. “I want to see.” He held his hand out again and this time, for the first time, Tony actually flinched, an instinctive, tell-tale reaction at the idea of Loki going anywhere close to the reactor embedded in his chest. Tony's lips parted and his first, knee-jerk reaction was to refuse.

“That wasn't part of the deal,” he protested, taking a step back.

Loki tilted his head to the side slowly, the expression on his face wavering between smug and calculating. “Wasn't it? I'm merely asking you to undress.”

Tony glared in reply, knowing fully well that they were both aware of Loki's bad faith. He huffed and pulled at the material of his shirt roughly, tugging it it over his head and throwing it to the ground. “Fine.” He stood there for a second with nothing but his dark undershirt on, shuddering under the intensity of Loki's gaze. Then he set his jaw, swallowed dryly and removed it, exposing the reactor and the intricate web of scarring marring his chest.

“Hurry up,” he snapped, holding himself still in front of Loki and not looking at him. “I'm freezing.” His fists clenched tightly by his side and he kept his eyes on Loki's chest, his whole body tense. Tony didn't like this, or so he told himself, the thrill that was going through his body a confusing mixture of excitement and terror.

He was suddenly acutely aware that Loki could kill him, like this. Well, Loki could always kill him, he tried to reason, that didn't stop his breathing from hitching when Loki laid his hand over the reactor. He could feel panic settle in the pit of his stomach and took deep, regular breaths, trying not to hyperventilate.

Loki's touch was light, his fingers spreading with calculated slowness until his palm was flat against the reactor, nearly blocking out its light completely. His eyes narrowed, razor-sharp in their focus as Loki gathered his magic, a greenish gold glow around his fingers. The hum of it made Tony swallow dryly and glance down as Loki's magic curled around the circle of light, thrumming every time it tried to prod inside, repelled with a curiously metallic noise.

Loki had seen many things in his life, but never that kind of power. The blue, sentient glow of it reminded him of the Tesseract. He let his fingers curl around the edge, gripping it where it protruded from Stark's chest, his wrist twisting. It didn't take him too long to work out the way it worked, a quarter turn and a tug, his eyebrows raising as the reactor half slid out, Tony making a strained noise and immediately leaning closer, as if to give Loki less room to yank it away.

“Don't,” he said abruptly when Loki began the slide the reactor out of his chest, before meeting his gaze and recalling that forbidding Loki to do things was the surest way of making him want to disobey. Tony's eyes were huge and dark, his whole face growing pale. He felt too hot and too cold at the same time.

“I'll die,” he warned faintly, feeling his heart pound in his ears as the reactor slid out of his chest completely, only linked to the electromagnet that kept his heart from being impaled by a thousand little steel needles by two short wires. He didn't have a spare here and if Loki was to wrench this one away, he'd have no means of repairing the connection.

His lips parted as he watched Loki's long fingers curl around the reactor, manipulating it with deceptive gentleness. “What are you doing,” he asked, a breathless whisper. He looked up to see Loki's face but Loki didn't meet his eyes, entirely absorbed by the reactor. His high cheekbones were flushed, somehow, and his eyes seemed black, even in the blue glow of the reactor. He looked... aroused, Tony realised with a start that made Loki lean in to avoid snapping the wires.

The hum of Loki's magic was back then, surrounding the reactor and slipping towards Tony's chest, easily seeping through his skin without the reactor's power to repel it. Tony made a strangled noise though it didn't actually hurt, feeling Loki's magic whisper and curl around his heart with an mix of curiosity and worry.

“Why is there a magnet in your chest?” Loki asked lowly, the first words he spoke since he'd apparently decided to open Tony up like a tin box. Tony swallowed dryly. He wasn't sure he wanted Loki to know quite so much about him but he was all-too-aware not to be in any position to refuse answering.

“It keeps me alive,” he admitted after a beat. Loki merely looked at him. “There's metal in my chest. Shrapnel. The magnet keeps it away from my heart.”

“Metal,” Loki repeated, his voice flat. His magic flared again as he felt for it, causing Tony to hiss. It took him a few seconds to locate the shreds embedded around Stark's heat, tiny and well-seated in his flesh as they were.

“Why is there metal in your chest, then?” He pushed, holding the reactor in one of his hands and reaching out with the other to touch the rim of the now gaping hole in Stark's chest.

“Long story short,” Tony replied curtly, shuddering as he felt Loki's fingers circle the metal casing, light on his skin. “I used to build weapons. Good ones, too. One of them blew up on me.”

That was not the whole story, Loki could tell, not even a truthful summary of it, but he decided to let it slide in favour of smirking and slipping his fingers inside Tony's chest.

“Fate is a cruel mistress, is she not?” he taunted, watching the way Stark's eyes were widening as he pushed his fingers in, making a strangled noise.

“Yeah, no, see, I'd rather you didn't. I mean if you wanna go poking inside me I'm sure we can find you somewhere else to – Jesus _Christ_ Loki!” Tony jumped as he felt the peculiar sensation of Loki's fingers hitting the back of the hole in his chest, touching the connections there curiously. Loki's hand was too big to fit in completely but his fingers were long and glowing with magic, intrusively prodding him at his core.

“What does it feel like?” Loki asked, a heated whisper.

“Like your hand is in my chest,” Tony gritted in reply, putting his own hand on Loki's wrist and meeting his eyes. Loki stared back steadily and there it was, finally.

 _Fear_.

Tony's eyes were feverish and almost entirely black, standing out starkly against the paleness of his face, his whole body rigid with terror, his pulse fluttering madly against Loki's fingertips.

“So this is what it takes, to make you fear me,” Loki stated, his voice low and dangerous. He didn't smile but merely took it in, leaning in to drink Stark's terror, thirsty for it, his fingers tightening on the edge of the reactor. Every creature had its breaking point, Loki had lived long enough to know this, and it looked like he had just found Stark's.

And how beautiful he was too, not cowed but terrified, cracked open by a single touch, his eyes wide and bottomless. The other Stark, bright and rash, had been amusing, but this one was fascinating. It felt like drowning then, looking into Stark's eyes. The rush of power made Loki's lips part and a strange flush rise in his heart, as if he were handling Stark's soul rather than a piece of metal embedded in his chest.

“Is it?” Tony prompted, and though his voice was weak and trembling there was something defiant in his gaze, something huge and unfathomable. Something _hungry_. He leaned in because his knees were growing weak and the wire between the magnet in his chest and the arc reactor in Loki's hand was already pulled taut, his hand still on Loki's wrist.

“Is it?” he repeated and Loki wanted to kiss him.

“Yes,” he answered, terribly benevolent. “It is.”

And before Tony could protest he withdrew and pushed the reactor back in his chest, his agile fingers making sure the wire didn't catch on anything, turning until the reactor was fully back in its socket, sliding home with a click. It brought a somewhat bitter taste to Tony's mouth, along with an overwhelming feeling of relief.

“Great.” Tony put a hand on his chest to make sure the reactor was back in place, stepping away so he could catch a breath, his entire body shuddering in the cold room. “That's just great.” He glared at Loki, displeased. “So. It's not that I'm not enjoying the foreplay, but what do you want?” He raised his eyebrows and for a second he was terrified and breathtakingly beautiful.

Loki grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in a way that boded ill. “I'll show you,” he replied, stepping back towards the throne and beckoning Tony with two fingers. He sat back down with a quiet hiss and Tony was suddenly reminded that he was most likely wounded, no matter how good he was at hiding it. “Come here,” he commanded, spreading his legs in a way that was nothing but obscene, making Tony sigh and roll his eyes.

“Don't tell me. You're going to ask me to kneel, aren't you?” he asked, unimpressed. Still, this was alright. He knew where this was going, and he could deal with that.

“Not quite,” Loki answered, watching Tony with hooded eyes as he came to stand between his legs. He looked cunning, even more so than the usual, making Tony frown warily. “I'm going to make you want to.”

Though he couldn't deny the shiver that went down his spine at the low and silky tone of Loki's voice, Tony merely raised a dubious eyebrow. “Uh-uh. And how're you going to do that?”

Loki smirked and reached out, almost causing Tony to recoil before he realised that Loki was aiming for his arm and not for the reactor. Cool fingers slipped down the inside of Tony's arm, causing him to twitch noticeably this time. “You're cold,” Tony defended himself when Loki shot him an amused glance. Loki didn't comment, taking Tony's hand in his own and turning it around, digging his fingers in his rough palm, his magic gathering.

He couldn't help but smirk at the sharp gasp Stark let out, putting his plan into action. It was such a good plan, honed through many sleepless nights on the battlefield, devious in its very simpleness.

He knew that forcing Stark into this, forcing him to pleasure Loki would not wield the results he wanted. Stark would not be broken by duress, he would not be broken through pain and humiliation. Whatever indignity Loki would put him through, Stark would bear with insolence, making a show of not wanting it and reluctantly indulging him because he had to. The most painful Loki made this, the most Stark would be able to reject it, resist it and keep it at arm's length as being part of something unpleasant he had to do to survive. And that was not what Loki wanted.

He wanted to get under Tony's skin, to make him desire this as much as Loki did, rendering him helpless in front of the power of his own desires. Loki would make him want it. Want it so much he came crawling and begging for it.

The spell-work was familiar enough. He had used it quite often as a way to bring pain to his enemies, though it was not the point here. His magic unfurled and raced up Stark's arm, tracing his nervous system, mapping it and surrounding it. It spread and spread, from his toes to the top of his head, cautiously avoiding the black hole formed by the reactor in his chest.

From the look on Tony's face Loki could tell that he felt it, a thrum of energy humming down his spine, tingling all over his body. “What are you doing?” Tony asked, feverishly.

Loki smirked and let his magic hum there, testing, before he turned it up, sending pleasure crashing into Stark's system.

Tony made a strangled noise that sounded as much like as protest as a moan, swaying into Loki's awaiting hands. Pleasure was everywhere at once, impossible and overwhelming, every nerve in his body suddenly alight with it, sending his mind in complete overdrive. Loki's fingers slipped up his arm at it felt like heaven, it felt like coming hard, fast and dirty though he wasn't, moaning breathlessly.

His knees buckled and he leaned in precariously close, almost climbing in Loki's lap, twitching when Loki's other hand came to rest against his hipbone to steady him, magic rushing underneath his fingers as if to greet them. Tony couldn't help but buck his hips into it though it was no use, Loki's magic efficiently overwhelming his nervous system with bliss without providing any actual physical stimulation, sending his body reeling.

Loki waited until he was all but crumbling to his knees, leaning into his touch and moaning lewdly, his eyes wild and lost. He was beautiful like this too, Loki noted, a bewildered, panting mess, beautiful enough that the deep-seated urge to _break_ him awoke in Loki's chest, making him smirk.

Now, then.

Loki kept the spell up for a few more seconds before abruptly leaning away, depriving Stark of his touch completely, watching him appraisingly as he stumbled back awkwardly, blinking.

“What the hell was that?” Tony asked, flushed in anger and shame, arousal rolling hot and heady through his veins.

“Magic.” Loki's voice was light and terribly casual. Tony stared at him, his eyes hard. He was going to lose this game, he realised. He'd been fully prepared for pain and humiliation, perhaps with a side of pleasure if he was lucky, but nothing could have prepared him to _this,_ to finding such bliss in Loki's touch.

"I thought this was about pleasing _you_ ," Tony stated, his voice trembling.

“Oh, but it is,” Loki replied darkly. He looked right back into Stark's eyes, taking in his wide-blown pupils and the flush on his face with great satisfaction.

What made pleasure such an interesting weapon, Loki pondered as Stark glared at him, was that, contrary to pain, it was extremely addictive. The quest for pleasure, especially when you had already had it once, was a powerful motive, perhaps even more powerful than the urge to avoid any suffering.

“Giving is so very rewarding,” he added mockingly, sarcasm obvious in the curve of his smile.

“What do you want?” Tony hissed, glaring.

“What do _you_ want?” Loki repeated with a mischievous glint in his eyes that had Tony sigh angrily.

“Fine.” He went down on his knees with a put-upon huff, making Loki chuckle and lean up to watch Tony with gleaming eyes as he slipped between his legs. He reached out again, his long fingers hovering above Stark's collarbone, not quite touching, the message clear enough. If Stark wanted it he would have to lean in, and this was how the beguiling begun.

Tony's face stayed carefully blank as he considered Loki's hand before him, promising unknown ecstasy if only he agreed to let go of his pride. And why not, after all? It was well-worth it, a little grovelling for a splendid orgasm. He'd done worse for less. Smirking he leaned in, pressing his cheek to Loki's palm. “Gimme all you've got, Comet,” he taunted, his grin growing fierce as he saw Loki's lips part in what dangerously resembled desire.

Loki guided him closer and let the spell unfurl gradually this time, setting a hum through Tony's body that would soon begin to ache with need.

He cried out at the feeling, his cock aching in the confines of his clothes, sweat pearling on his forehead despite the frigid temperature. His eyes were wild with pleasure, darkened and hooded, his entire face flushing as bliss sweetly seeped into his veins, making him squirm and buck his hips forward.

Loki's hand was still on his cheek and the sensory overload was such that it was only when Loki's breathing hitched that he realised he'd turned his face into it and taken Loki's thumb into his mouth, sucking on it suggestively. It shocked him to find that he would do such a thing willingly. It wasn't unpleasant, Loki's skin feeling rough against his tongue and tasting faintly of metal. He glanced up when Loki pushed his thumb deeper in his mouth, meeting his gaze.

Loki looked as aroused as Tony felt, a deep flush spreading on his high cheekbones as he leisurely fucked Tony's mouth with his thumb. Tony was too aroused to be angry about it, hollowing his cheeks and sucking lewdly to see how far he could push, smirking when Loki's tongue flickered out to touch his upper lip.

His magic spiked, twisting sharply in Tony's groin. He gasped and Loki's thumb slipped out of his mouth with an obscenely wet noise. Loki's fingers curled into his hair at the back of his neck, drawing him close. Tony went, letting out a strangled moan.

His mouth connected with the rough material of Loki's trousers and he pressed his tongue to it without even thinking about it, feeling Loki's thigh tense under his touch.

He panted and mouthed at the thick fabric of Loki's trousers absent-mindedly, shuddering and moaning when Loki's grip on his hair became harsher, sending tingles down his back. Tony didn't even care that he was on his knees on freezing ground anymore, lewdly pressing his mouth against Loki's clothed thigh. His whole body felt alight with pleasure, bright and almost too keen to be completely comfortable, a razor-blade wrapped in silk.

Then Loki pulled him even closer, Tony's lips chaffing lightly against the material of his trousers until they were pressing against his cock. Loki was hard and the idea of it as much as the physical contact sent a shock through Tony's system, making him groan and tremble, mumbling nonsensical things against the warm fabric of Loki's trousers until Loki's fingers slipped down along his spine and pressed in, digging into his flesh.

Tony froze, his mouth open over the tip of Loki's cock, breathing warm and tensing up because he could feel it build, a bolt of energy that gathered between his shoulder blades. It spread and spread until Loki released it and it went down his spine like a rampant wave, exploding in Tony's groin in something almost too bright to be called pleasure.

He didn't even realise he was coming until it was happening, his mind going blank with white-hot pleasure, his vision greying around the edges as he screamed against Loki's thigh, trembling and bucking and panting for air desperately as magic coursed through his body.

It seemed to last inordinately long, time stopping as his pleasure peaked and took a hard edge, leaving him sore and breathless. It took Tony an even longer time to get a grip on himself and gather his spirits, feeling cold as the euphoria of afterglow left him, his mouth tingling and his throat hurting. He felt sticky too, his trousers seemingly completely ruined, wet spots slowly appearing around his fly.

He leaned back, sitting on his heels and looking up to Loki, swallowing at the hungry look on his face. “So,” he croaked, rubbing his face without breaking eye-contact. “I've lost that round, it seems.” He managed to grin along as Loki made a low noise that could have been a laugh. Loki's thumb stroked along his stubbly jaw, rubbing against his lower lip. Tony let him, waiting for Loki to ask for more, to ask for reciprocation. He would not have minded too much at the moment, in truth.

“You may return to your chambers,” Loki said instead, his voice rough and low, lower than Tony had ever heard.

Tony sat back, his eyebrows raising. “Seriously?” He stared at the bulge in Loki's trousers pointedly. “You're going to ride into battle like that?”

Loki's answering grin was thin and predatory. “Frustration is a powerful motive.” He watched Tony with dark eyes. “It'll give me incentive to come back.”

Tony snorted. “I knew you'd be into that kind of thing. 'm not waiting for you, Comet. Even though what you did with your magic fingers was a pretty neat trick.”

Loki smirked and sat up, pressing his hand to his side with a hiss, frowning. He gestured for Tony to stand up. “We'll see.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Art by glasslogic. (click on the banner for original post)  
> Beta reading by kccasey.


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